


Find Me a Model

by madamguillotine



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Artist Grantaire, Crack, First Meetings, Fluff and Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:41:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23247199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamguillotine/pseuds/madamguillotine
Summary: When Combeferre goes to Grantaire for art lessons, they need a life model but just can't seem to find one
Relationships: Combeferre & Grantaire (Les Misérables), Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Find Me a Model

Combeferre liked to improve himself. Constant improvements of his mind were important to him. He already felt he had a good grasp of art history, and the periods of art but how the actual pieces were created was a mystery to him.

After several failed attempts at a single still light of his favourite mug, he decided he’d go to Grantaire and see what he’d charge for lessons. He wouldn’t accept them for free, he was a starving artist. He won’t let him waste his time on something as frivolous as art lessons to someone who was merely curious. After much stubbornness, Grantaire finally relented and accepted his money for the lessons.

“Now, what are you hoping to draw?”

“Well, I was taking a class on art history but I want to be able to make art as well. Get a full picture of what it was like- “

“I’m going to cut you off at the pass here, Ferre. You want me to _teach_ you how to _be_ Rembrandt?”

“No but if you could take me a little past stick figures… it would be nice,”

“So, you want to try life drawing! Ambitious! But I never expected anything less from you, friend.” Grantaire smiled, conspiratorially, “Step into my office, baby!”

Combeferre followed him into his studio. Although, it was more of an extra bedroom in his apartment. The room was paint splattered and piled high with canvases and sketchbooks.

“I knew you were an artist but I had no idea you were this… prolific!”

“What did you think I spent my time on, Ferre?” Grantaire chuckled. It was a popular misconception that art just _happened_ and that it doesn’t take immense work and concentration to create a single piece.

They approached the stool where he’d had a life model sitting for a portrait he was doing. In place of the model was a folded index card with the words “FIND ME” written in pen in block capitals.

“Well, I _had_ a model for us to use. A very attractive one, even. But I guess he left. It’s the guy I was telling you about,” he said trying convince his model to come out on his own. It didn’t work.

“I think we should do as your model says. There can’t be _that_ many places to hide around here…” Combeferre said looking around him.

“You take in here, I’ll check out the kitchen,” Grantaire said leaving.

Ferre looked around. He approached an old timey-looking sea chest and opened it and pulled out the index card inside, “Try again…” he muttered, reading it aloud.

He looked about him and opened the small closet in the wall and sighed. “Nice try” the index card said. He ran a hand through his hair.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a small cupboard with a small piece of something falling out of the door.

He approached, “I guess I may as well go home if there’s no model!” he called to Grantaire.

“He’s here somewhere I swear!” Grantaire called back, rifling through the hall closet.

Combeferre threw open the door to the short, free-standing cupboard.

“Got- “

“Shh… I’m hiding!” the small man in the cupboard said.

“Why?” he whispered, crouching down to get level with those big brown eyes.

“I do every time! Keeps him on his toes!”

“You mean because you’re a little shit.”

“That too, of course. But you found me fair and square!” the model said flopping out of the cupboard and unfurling himself to his full less than 5-foot, 1-inch height. He was covered in a healthy dose of freckles and a mop of brown curly hair.

Grantaire came in hearing two voices and smiled widely.

“Are introductions in order? Combeferre! This is Courfeyrac, my eternal model until the day he _really_ goes missing! And Courfeyrac, this is Combeferre! One of my dearest friends! And my pupil!”

“You got yourself a student?” he “If I knew it was a special occasion, I would have let you draw me in my finery!”

Combeferre blushed thinking about what this little ball of sunshine considered ‘finery’.

“You’re fine enough as you are,” Combeferre said, putting a pencil behind his ear. Maybe he’ll never be an artist. Perhaps, he’ll never find what it takes. But what he did find was who would become the most important person to him was closer than he could have ever imagined.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: I’m in art class and I just opened the cupboard to find a tiny person squished inside and you just looked at me and said “Shh… I’m hiding”


End file.
